Page 41 of Killian
“We care,” said the captain of the troop of elves. Killian thought his name was Ceallach, but he was still struggling to pronounce it right. “Just not as much as dryads.”
“Well, this sounds like a cultural argument that I should not engage with,” said Moira.
“Yes,” said the captain, his eyes twinkling. “Well done.”
“I am only commenting because of the amount of tree that is very much up my nose right now,” said Moira.
Killian rubbed his nose again. The ball of yarn was tugging on his belt and he turned his attention to what had it so upset. He found it behind a bush where it had gotten snagged on a rock.
The same Roman-style road was here, but it was clearly older and more disjointed from pushing roots and plants. They started down the path, following the yarn as it bounced merrily along. The light here was muted, and the air was humid. The pillars among the foliage shone as brightly as any other, but the waving coniferous boughs and damp mist above softened the light to dappled shadows. Underfoot, the enormous brown needles of seasons past muffled the sound of their footsteps.
Above them there was a sharp cracking sound and Killian looked up, disturbed to hear something so loud.
“Um,” said Cynog, raising a finger of warning.
“Uh, yes,” agreed the captain. “Best to get under the shields everyone.”
Moira and Killian were shoved in close to the elves who knelt down and put their shields up overhead like a roof.
“We’ll just give it a moment,” said the captain.
Just when Killian was about to ask when the moment would be up, he picked up the whistling sound of something big moving very fast. With a thump that vibrated the ground beneath their feet, a pinecone the size of a shopping cart hit the ground and rolled off the road into the underbrush, leaving a groove in the soft earth.
“Oh, I wish I could take that one home,” said Cynog, rushing out to look after the departing pinecone. “Mum would love it.”
“I’m sure there will be plenty of time for collecting later,” saidthe captain, who Killian was beginning to suspect was a parent because he had that tone. Cynog sighed regretfully and came back to the trail.
They went on a bit further, but both Killian and the ball of yarn stopped in a clearing. There were scorch marks in the green moss, leaving black marks that smelled of plastic.
“This is…” The captain pointed angrily at the marks apparently rendered speechless by what it was. Cynog was only capable of a squeak of agreement.
Moira inspected the burned spot and cautiously dipped a finger in the soot, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger with a disgusted look.
“It’s their magic,” said Moira. “I don’t understand how they got it to work. I thought you had a spell to prevent human magic from working?”
“We do,” said the Ceallach. “But like many wide-reaching spells, we can’t account for everything. And they may be basing some of this magic on Supernatural magic or something else that confuses the spell.”
“I don’t think it’s working that well,” said Killian, inspecting one of the burn spots. “The wood here is charred, but not burned through. I think they had enough power to light the fire, but not enough to keep it going.”
“The woodisdamp,” said Moira. “It looks to me like they didn’t bring anyone with actual woodcraft. They’re relying on magic and...” She smelled her fingers and made a face. “Lighter fluid.”
“That’s good news then,” said Killian.
“How is this good news?” demanded Cynog, waving his hands at the burned moss.
“They’ll run out of lighter fluid and they can’t keep a fire going,” said Killian. “The damage they can do is limited.”
“I am going to need a few minutes to fix this,” announcedCynog. “I cannot in good conscience leave things this way.” Cynog looked like he expected an argument.
“Of course, Cynog,” said Moira. “You just tell us what you need. We will try to help.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you,” said Cynog. “That’s very nice of you. I just need a few minutes to reshelve some of the magic.”
“OK,” said Moira. “We will just sit over here then. And get out of your way.”
Killian settled down next to Moira and watched the elves and dryad start their work.
“I have no idea what they’re doing,” he whispered. “Do you?”
